Reprinted from Maze Bright, Bread and Butter Press, 1987

Ensenada

Back from the journey
we recoil
in the automotive roar
of urban necessity,
setting our clocks
to the correct time
which we do not believe in.

Here we tell ourselves
the gypsy spirit
can be a frame of mind
as we wash the Ensenada sand
from the saucepan,
watch it swirl
down the stainless
steel sink.

We put out candles
with a clam shell,
string up Mexican abalone,
mother of pearl wind chimes
in wire and wood mobiles.

Distantly, bluegreen white foam
churns over purple sea urchins
and children scavenge
for seashells
to bring the ocean home
in a paper bag.